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In the bleak mid-winter
Tory winds blew cold;
Man with heart of iron,
Boris was enthroned;
Votes had fallen, vote on vote,
Vote on vote,
In the bleak mid-winter
Not so long ago.
Brexit cannot hold Him
Nor EU sustain,
Socialism shall flee
away
When He comes to reign:
In the bleak mid-winter
Ten Downing Street sufficed
Next to God Almighty —
Johnson and his wife.
Enough for Him, whom tabloids
Worship night and day,
A fizzing magnum of champagne
And a Corbyn run away;
Enough for Him, whom Angels
Fall down before,
The forty seat majority
Which him adore.
Angels and Archangels
May have gathered there,
Cherubim and seraphim
Thronged the air;
But only Mrs Johnson
In her drunken bliss
Worshipped mophead Boris
With a kiss.
What can I give Him,
Right wing as I am? —
If I were a banker
I would bring him cash;
If I were a businessman
I would do my part, —
Yet what I can I give Him, —
Votes were just the start.
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//Johnson and his wife// - Who?! |
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Well, someone's wife (allegedly) .... |
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Like David Lloyd George ... |
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As General Haig said, "I can't abide these politicians. I can't trust them with anything - they all tell their wives. Except for Lloyd George, of course, and he tells somebody else's wife ..." |
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In the bleak midwinter used to be my favourite carol. |
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Have we spoilt it for you ? Please, tell us we've spoilt it for you ... |
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Youse have spoiled it for me |
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<Ticks off "Really piss of [calum]" on to-do list/> |
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Now if Johnson were his christian name he'd be.. |
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Hmm.. there's still hope for the future though, maybe we can
find Mr
Johnson a nice Miss Palmer to marry, & they can hyphenate
their names for their children? |
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